


Just Another Player in Your Game For Two

by reindeerjumper



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Boy Bands, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Harry Hart is a Little Shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 20:04:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10974402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeerjumper/pseuds/reindeerjumper
Summary: Harry Hart has never listened to a boy band in his life. Roxy has an entire playlist dedicated to her favorites. Or, that time Roxy schooled Harry on the importance of *NYSNC, and the way Harry retaliated.





	Just Another Player in Your Game For Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thatgirlwho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgirlwho/gifts).



> I fully blame [Kim](http://notbrogues.tumblr.com) for this insanity. Come flail with me on [tumblr](http://hisreindeerjumper.tumblr.com)!

It had all started out innocently enough. Most things like this usually did. Harry had come home from headquarters far later than he had intended to--a debriefing with Arthur had run far later than he had hoped or wanted--but he was fortunate enough that Roxy wasn’t one to hold grudges. She knew their jobs were important, that late hours were part of the territory, and she usually didn’t give him too hard of a time about it. 

The clock was nearing nine as Harry’s car pulled up in front of Stanhope Mews. The rain that had started out as a mist at the tailor’s shop was now a full on deluge, and he pulled the collar of his trench up around his ears before thanking the driver and heading towards his front door. Fat droplets clung to the lenses of his glasses as he peered through them towards the kitchen window. He could see the light on, and occasionally the silhouette of Roxy breezed past his line of vision as she walked around the kitchen. 

_ Most likely cooking, _ Harry mused. He told her numerous times that he could fend for himself--he’d done it for nearly 40 years--but she would hear none of it. Especially on late nights like these, Roxy made it a point to have a meal and a glass of wine waiting for him...whether or not lingerie was involved was a different story. Shaking his head in amusement, Harry made the last few steps up to the front door and slid his key into the lock. 

When the front door swung open, his ears were assaulted with the sound of something unfamiliar yet painfully reminiscent of the early aughts. It reminded him of frosted tips and screaming teenage girls, but he couldn’t put his finger on it to save his life. He slid his trenchcoat off and hung it on the peg to dry, then slid off his oxfords to stash them beneath his coat. The music was louder as he entered into the house, padding along in socked feet towards the kitchen where he knew Roxy was waiting. 

He could hear her voice blending in with those singing on the track, an excited pitch to her voice that rarely made itself known. As he crossed through the dining room towards the kitchen, he unbuttoned his suit jacket and slid it off of his arms, leaving it hung on the back of one of the chairs to later be picked up and brought to the bedroom. He could see Roxy’s form, a flash here and there across the entryway of the kitchen as she bustled about, singing along to the music with two oven mitts on her hands. She hadn’t noticed him enter the house, which surprised him--she was usually incredibly observant. Very rarely did he get away with  _ anything _ ...Roxy made it a point to catch him at all costs, sometimes before he even knew what he was doing himself.

Taking advantage of her distraction, he allowed himself the pleasure of just watching her as she danced around the kitchen. 

“ _ Tell me whyyyyy! Ain’t nothin’ but a heartache, ain’t nothin’ but a mistaaaake. Tell me why, I never wanna hear you saaaay, I want it that wayyyyy!”  _ She pirouetted in the middle of the kitchen, her years of ballet making themselves evident as she landed perfectly in the middle of the floor with her oven mitt clad hands poised on either side of her. She spun one more time, singing, “ _ Cause I want it that waaaaaay,”  _ before coming face-to-face with Harry. 

Her face dropped in embarrassment, the heat and color rising on her cheeks as her arms fell to her sides. Languidly, Harry raised his arms and started to slow clap, the delicious curve of his smirk causing her to blush even more. “Bravo,” he said, amusement twinkling in his eyes. 

“Oh, bugger off,” she replied, crossing the space between them to claim his mouth with her own. He moaned into the kiss, realizing for the first time that day how much he had missed her. Harry brought his hands up to her waist, pulling her in closely to him before he felt the two oven mitts press against his chest as Roxy pulled away from him. “Your dinner will burn if you keep kissing me like that.”

Harry let out an appreciative hum as he watched her cross the kitchen towards the oven. She bent over whatever it was that smelled delicious, and he couldn’t help feeling incredibly lucky as he watched her arse bob and weave to whatever atrocity had come onto her playlist after the first. He wanted to give her right cheek a pinch, but decided against it. That could wait for later. Instead, he said in a questioning tone, “What in God’s name are you listening to?”

Without looking up from inside the oven, Roxy replied, “It’s my boy band playlist.”

“Boy band?”

“You know--Backstreet Boys, *NSYNC? Maybe some 98 Degrees if I’m feeling especially nostalgic?”

“Darling, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, but I can say with total confidence that I think I’m alright with that.” 

“Ah, yes, I forgot how thirty straight minutes of Miles Davis wailing on a trumpet is so much better.”

“I’m going to choose to ignore that.” 

Roxy crossed the kitchen to where Harry had draped himself into a chair and sat herself on his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck, searching his face with laser precision. Warmth bloomed in his chest as he watched her brown eyes scan over his features, the cocksuredness of her jawline that he had fallen head over heels with making her look far more intimidating than she normally did in his lap. “You’re gorgeous,” he murmured, placing his hand on the sharp contour of her cheek, his thumb running gently over the skin there.

“And you,” she replied, “are an arsehole.” 

“I take offense to that,” Harry replied as Roxy slid off of his lap. Another song came onto the speaker, and he made an effort not to cringe. 

“Make it up to me?” she said coyly, glancing over her shoulder as she made her way back to the oven.

“For you, I’d move mountains. I’d hang the moon.” Even with her back to him, Harry could feel her rolling her eyes. He unbuttoned the cuffs to his sleeves and rolled them up to his elbows before crossing the kitchen floor to where Roxy stood. Briefly, he felt her tense up before she realized it was just him.  _ Spies. _ Looping his hands around her waist, Harry bent forward and placed a few featherweight kisses against the curve where her neck met her shoulder. She shuddered, and he pressed a self-satisfied smile against her skin. “Anything to get back in your good graces.”

“No wonder you were single for so many years,” he heard her mutter. “You’re so corny.”

“Ah, but you love it,” came his throaty reply. 

Roxy turned in his embrace to look him in the eye. “I love  _ you _ . The corny comments, not so much.” She went up on tiptoes to kiss him before letting out a gasp. “Oh my God, I love this song.” Crestfallen, Harry looked down at her, his eyes lingering on the gorgeous bow of her lips. He allowed himself to glance back up. In this close proximity, Roxy’s skin looked like porcelain, all smoothness tinged pink. 

Even with that infernal sound coming from the speaker, he couldn’t be distracted from just how  _ perfect _ she was. She was like a chameleon--lethal in one breath, completely intoxicating in the next, infuriatingly quick and smart right after. He leaned down, desperate to kiss her again, but Roxy pushed away and made her way to the middle of the kitchen.

“C’mon, Mr. Hart. Dance with me?” She held out a hand to him as she looked through her eyelashes, knowing she had him exactly where she wanted him. He let out a huff, angry at himself for giving in so easily. 

“Fine,” he said in a clipped tone. Roxy quirked a smile at him, obviously pleased with herself. 

“I’m going to teach you the whole thing.”

At this, Harry raised an eyebrow, jamming his hands self-consciously into his pockets. “Pardon?”

“Harry, this song is  _ iconic. _ There’s an entire dance to it. And  _ you _ are going to learn it.” Roxy leaned back towards the speaker on the counter and restarted the song. A reedy violin sound came from the speaker before a nasally, “ _ Hey, heyyyy! Bye, bye, bye!”  _ warbled through the kitchen. The beat suddenly dropped, and before Harry knew it, Roxy was on top of him. She was writhing against his body, pressing against the front of his trousers with the arse cheek that he had willed himself to not pinch earlier. When he swallowed, his throat clicked. He hesitated before placing his large hands on the small frame of her hips as she wiggled in front of him. 

She was mouthing along to every single word, her hand gestures animated and a little over dramatic, if he were to be honest. Her facial expressions were wide-eyed, eyebrows raised to her hairline and her mouth was angrily lip-synching to the words. Suddenly, the chorus approached, and as the words  _ I know that I can’t take no more, it ain’t no lie  _ blasted through the space, Roxy took a wide-footed stance in the middle of the kitchen before clapping her hand across the front of her like some asinine looking crab as she sang,  _ “I want to see you out that door, baby bye, bye, bye!” _

This time, Harry made no effort to conceal his groan. He remembered this. It was a faint and distant memory, one that he had valiantly tried to bleach from his brain once the hype of it all had calmed down. Early 2000 the song had come out, and it seemed from that point on it was inescapable. Every coffee shop, shopping mall and radio station had it blaring, and it was inevitable that once those three repetitive words came on, every person in the room seemed to suddenly be partaking in a flash mob as they smacked their hand in the same motion that Roxy was now doing in front of him.

Always observant, Roxy must have noticed the glint of recognition on Harry’s eyes, and a wicked grin crossed her face. “You know it!” she crowed, grabbing both of his hands and dragging him towards her. He willed his body to go the other way, his back arching against the force of her yanking, but he was lost on her. He couldn’t deny her what she wanted. Unwillingly, he allowed himself to be pulled into her embrace, his head rolled back as his eyes searched the ceiling in the hopes that some kind of escape would suddenly appear. 

It didn’t.

Harry felt Roxy’s hands grab the sides of his face as she willed his gaze down to hers. He allowed it, snaking his arms around her waist and running his thumb under the monogrammed pajama shirt she was wearing. Her skin was warm and smooth. Harry swallowed again with a click.

“Dance with me,” she begged. 

“No.”

“Harry, please?”

“Roxanne, no.”

“I’ll do that thing you like if you dance with me.”

_ Fuck,  _ he thought to himself. He looked down at her face, tilted upwards and shining at him like a beacon. The smoothness of her skin was flushed pink, the hazel of her eyes clear and bright in the track lighting of the kitchen. He took his thumb and pressed it against the pillow of her lips before allowing his hand to trail up her jaw and settle in her hair. He gave it a gentle tug, and she grinned at him.

“I will do the blasted move  _ once,”  _ he said begrudgingly. “And then I am immediately taking you upstairs.” Roxy just continued to grin at him as she wriggled out of his embrace to go restart the song. “For fuck’s sake, don’t restart it,” Harry muttered, but it was no use. The reedy intro was piercing into his eardrums once more, and Roxy stood across from him shimmying her hips. 

He watched her dance in front of him, allowing himself the small reward of getting to hungrily gaze at the smooth lines of her leg muscles that stemmed from her matching pajama shorts. Harry knew the chorus was coming up--he was dreading its imminent arrival--but he couldn’t stop watching Roxy as she danced in front of him. Glee was spread across her face, and it was so nice to see it. It wasn’t hard to forget how dangerous their jobs were, and Roxy took everything so seriously--far more seriously than Harry did. Stone cold determination was usually settled on her features, her line of vision usually piercing whoever she was talking to with laser precision. It didn’t take away from how attractive he found her...if anything, it made him want her more. 

It was in these small vignettes, though, that Harry saw her softer side. Within the safety of his four walls, Roxy allowed her vulnerable, fun-loving side to come out, and Harry consumed it with a voracious need. Not wanting the gleeful smile to leave her face, Harry succumbed himself to the fact that he  _ had to do it. _ There was no avoiding it.

The chorus started to play, and Harry leadenly lifted his arm. Roxy’s grin spread wider. Harry resolutely held himself with the same wide-footed stance that Roxy had displayed earlier. His back was ramrod straight, his chin jutting out with a certain air of confidence that he ironically was lacking. 

_ I know that I can’t take no more, it ain’t no lie _

_ I want to see you out that door, _

_ Baby bye, bye, bye! _

Starting from across his chest, Harry crab-clawed his way through the chorus, the heat rising under his collar as he watched Roxy openly laughing at him. Her hands were clasped under chin as she doubled over in a fit of giggles. Nothing sounded more beautiful, Harry decided.

As soon as the next verse came on, Harry dropped his arms to his sides, took two quick strides towards Roxy, and scooped her up. She squealed in delight as he threw her over his shoulder, finally allowing himself to palm her arse cheek before giving it a salacious pinch. 

“Oi!” she laughed, banging onto his back with her fists.

“Tch, tch,” Harry chided as he carried her from the kitchen. “Spending too much time with Mr. Unwin, I see.”

At this, Roxy laughed before saying, “But Harry, your dinner’s going to burn!” Harry doubled back and clicked the stove off. 

“That particular meal will no longer satisfy my hunger, darling. To the bedroom we must go. You  _ did _ promise me that you’d do that thing that I love so very much.” With that, Harry whisked her out of the kitchen, up the stairs, and into the bedroom. 

He never got to eat the dinner she had made for him, but Roxy made good on her promise

 

 

* * *

 

Not a week later, Harry sat across the table from Roxy at headquarters. They were in yet another boring, monotonous meeting with Arthur, and Harry occasionally felt the brush of Roxy’s foot against his calf which always caused a spark of pleasure to throb in his groin. 

As always, Roxy’s face betrayed nothing--she was the picture of noble attentiveness. Harry often tried to break her of this during meetings. There was something deliciously satisfying about making her laugh mid-meeting, causing Arthur to glare at her down the table. She was never one to get in trouble, abhorring the idea and rolling her eyes at the other agents when they would display certain levels of immaturity just to get a guffaw out of each other. 

Harry had only made her crack once when he wore a pair of atrocious buck teeth to the meeting. She had glanced at him across the table, rolling her eyes at something Arthur had mentioned. He returned the sentiment with a goofy grin, showing off the teeth while crossing his eyes. Roxy had actually snorted and choked, which had basically made Harry’s year. Arthur practically seethed at the interruption, and Harry couldn’t help admiring the attractive flush that flooded her neck as she apologized.

Arthur was now droning on at the front of the room about their upcoming mark, an arms dealer by the name of Joss Malachi. His voice had melted into something of an annoying buzz in Harry’s ear, and Harry could no longer occupy himself with the dirty cartoon he was drawing on the napkin in front of him. He lolled his head back, allowing it to audibly thump against the leather of the chair he was sitting in. It was incredible how bored an international spy’s job could be when you weren’t on the run after someone or jumping out of a plane. Harry allowed his head to roll forward with just enough dramatic exaggeration to catch Roxy’s eye. She smirked at him, knowing how out of his skull he must be with boredom. He slid the napkin across the table to her, his own smirk crossing his lips. Roxy glanced at it, closed her eyes in exasperation, and shook her head.  _ “Perv,” _ she mouthed to him before turning her attention back to the meeting. 

Harry smiled to himself. He watched Roxy’s face as she listened to Arthur drone on--she was at rapt attention, occasionally jotting down notes as he spoke about their mark. Taking great effort to focus his attention on what Arthur was saying, Harry pitched an ear towards the older gentleman at the front of the table. He was still going on and on about this Malachi character, giving background information and pointing to a useless graph at his side that portrayed the several assassins that Malachi was providing for.

Boring didn’t even begin to cover it.

Harry tapped his pen on the table to the monotonous beat of Arthur’s voice.  _ It’s amazing how much he sounds like a metronome, _ Harry thought petulantly. Soon, though, the tap of Harry’s pen occupied his full attention. He loved a challenge, and it was surprisingly great fun to see what songs he could match up to the painfully boring beat of Arthur’s voice.

_ I Can’t Give You Anything But Love. _

_ Nobody Does It Better. _

_ Catch a Falling Star. _

_ Bye, Bye, Bye. _

Harry froze. It was good. Too good. He listened more closely, tilting his head ever so slightly towards Arthur as he continued to tap out the syllables to Arthur’s words.  _ Mal-a-chi, bye-bye-bye. _ A grin crossed Harry’s face. He tapped the pen a little louder, keeping syncopated rhythm with Arthur’s voice.  _ Mal-a-chi, bye-bye-bye. _

Eventually, as Harry expected, the tapping of his pen warranted the glaring attention of Roxy from across the table. She had her jaw set, giving her an air of Mother Hen, and she was shooting daggers at him from behind her glasses. He lifted the pen to his ear, tilting his head and willing her to follow along to the beat. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him, the pen keeping time with each syllable that Arthur droned. Harry watched her mouth quirk.  _ Clever girl, _ he thought to himself, proud of her for how quickly she picked up on his cues.

Now that he had her full attention, he gently placed the pen back down on the table in front of him, straightened his tie, and turned his shoulders to face squarely at Roxy. He brought a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat before raising his hand across his chest and doing that infernal move to match Arthur’s, “Malachi”.

Roxy choked. He watched her as she fought valiantly against the laughter rising in her throat, biting her bottom lip to will it away. Harry, far too pleased with himself, repeated the move again as Arthur said the mark’s name. Really, he was getting quite good at predicting when it would be dropped into the briefing. Roxy laughed aloud this time before clapping a hand over her mouth. There was a beat before Arthur continued, and Harry noted the icy glare he was giving Roxy from his spot at the head of the table. A few more sentences, and that blasted name fell from his lips once again. Like a dog with a bone, Harry crab clawed his way across the front of himself, refusing to break eye contact with Roxy as her face turned a brilliant shade of red.

Their silent banter had garnered the attention of Eggsy, who eventually picked up on what Harry was doing. He had far less respect for Arthur than Roxy did, so his laughter erupted from his chest in a bark. Harry gave him a smirk of approval as Roxy’s giggles erupted forth with no chance of subsiding. The two of them were now like children in church--they knew they shouldn’t be laughing, that it was actually deplorable that they were, but they couldn’t stop.

Arthur stopped the meeting as all eyes swiveled towards them. “Gaiwan, Lancelot, is there something you’d like to share?” he said. His tone was like ice. Harry felt a little bad, getting Roxy in trouble like this...he knew she’d internalize it, overthink it, but he looked forward to being the one to take her mind off of it.

The color in Roxy’s cheek was bright pink, and Harry had to suppress the urge to lean across the table and brush his lips against it. He watched as she cleared her throat, fighting with her features so they wouldn’t betray her. “No, sir, nothing to share. I apologize for the interruption.”

“Well, then, I’d like to get back to the meeting if that is alright with the both of you.”

“Yes, sir, by all means,” she replied as Eggsy gave him a half-cocked salute, the shit-eating grin still on his face. As Arthur started speaking again, Roxy turned her gaze from the front of the table to Harry across the way. He gave her a smile, allowing his dimples to be on full display. Silently, Roxy raised her hand to her throat and dragged her thumb across the skin there. Then, she pointed a finger at him as her eyes glittered behind the glasses. He smirked again, and she flipped him off before turning back to face Arthur. 

Dead man or not, Harry decided the entire thing was worth it. 


End file.
